


Balancing Act

by scifishipper



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifishipper/pseuds/scifishipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara tries to convince herself that they're just frakking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balancing Act

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the BSG_Pornbattle (LJ). Prompts: Balancing act, Commander's quarters, not like before, visits

They'd done it just about everywhere in his quarters, the desk, the sofa, the floor here, there, and there, but they'd never quite made it to the bed. Somehow that was too serious, spoke of too much that might become normal or expected and she didn't want that. Things got weird when the frakking turned into something else and there were declarations of love and devotion and the whole thing just got ruined.

She wondered if he knew that she was ready for him each time he pressed them towards the bed, distracting him with her hands in his pants or her mouth around his cock. In the end, she figured, he didn't mind because he took her wherever she guided him. This morning, it was in the shower before his shift. Last night, against the wall near the bar where she'd dribbled amber liquor between her breasts.

It was tiring, though, she thought sometimes, planning their encounters in advance and wondering how she'd keep it interesting and fresh and new for him before he gave her the inevitable nudge towards the sheets. Lee was easier to deal with when he couldn't talk, couldn't give her that stare loaded with expectations or the thin line of his lips when he was displeased. He was beauty and fire inside her, thrusting wildly before he came, exploding and gripping her tightly in his arms.

After four months, even Starbuck's endurance and creativity had begun to falter. Her outside-the-box thinking had become a curse and now she thought about his rack, about frakking him where her knees didn't ache and her back wasn't bruised by the edge of the desk and where she didn't have to yank on her clothes and leave him without speaking. She thought he would do it forever, just to have a piece of her, once, twice, sometimes three times in a day, until she decided it was over and she'd end it.

At least that's how it had worked before. But it had never gone on this long, with this intensity or with this much insatiable need. It had never been Lee before.

Today, she has made a different decision and she is waiting for him, standing next to his rack in her tanks and panties. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees her because things are suddenly different. She doesn't move when he enters the room, just stands there, waiting for him to make the first move. And his skin prickles a bit, nervous about this sudden change, but he strips off his uniform anyway, his gaze never wavering from hers. She is so uncharacteristically still that he swallows before stepping towards her.

His first motion is to touch her face and she lets him, eyes open wide and staring into his. He doesn't understand this change, but he accepts it and leans in to kiss her. It's tender and gentle and something altogether headier than their lips smashing together in blind passion. He tastes her now, for long moments and she responds in kind, without pressure to turn them away from the bed or smirk or tease him into forgetting that he lays no claim to her. Tonight, and maybe only tonight, she lets him lay claim, threading his fingers into her hair, caressing her skin and slowly peeling away her clothes.

When he pulls her down onto the bed, he expects a burst of laughter or an unexpected joke, but she follows his lead, sliding her legs over him to straddle his lap until he presses her into the bed. She's strangely quiet, this woman, more Kara than Starbuck now, without the show or the bravado and the taking of what she wants because she can. Even her skin seems softer, smoother, more pliant as he touches her everywhere with his mouth and tongue and hands.

When he slips inside her, she kisses him, dipping her tongue into his mouth, drawing him in ever so slowly until he is sheathed completely. He moves without rushing or consuming and simply enjoys the languorous build-up until they are both panting and she cries out his name for the first time. He shatters then, his control and sense obliterated by the raw need in her voice and he pulses hard into her core. Settling against her, he still expects her to rise and dress and leave, like she has done so many times before. But she does not move nor speak nor laugh.

She simply stays.


End file.
